Starvation? Is that a type of candy?
by OwlinAMinor
Summary: Basically a rant fic in which I yell at the Host Club and get them to be more charitable.  Takes place during Hunny's three days without cake.


**STARVATION? IS THAT A TYPE OF CANDY?**

**It really annoys me how much food goes to waste. People at my school throw out half of their lunch every day, and somewhere in the world, kids are starving. Some of the worst criminals of this kind of crime are the Ouran High School Host Club. Hunny in particular annoys me to no end. He goes practically insane because of 3 days without cake? How STUPID is that? What about the people who've never tasted cake in their entire lives? Maybe he should stop spending money on cake for himself and start spending it on cake for other people!**

**Which is kind-of what this story is about.**

**It's basically a random rant fic with no real plot, just me yelling at the Host Club a bit and getting them to be more charitable.**

**So enjoy! :D**

**Another Rant of the Disclaiming Variety: Do you think I own Ouran High School Host Club? Who do you think I am? Bisco Hatori? Yeah ... NO.**

* * *

It was a typical day at the Ouran High School Host Club – Tamaki was wooing ladies, the twins were causing trouble, Kyoya was marketing new merchandise, Haruhi was carting around drinks (occasionally muttering "Stupid rich people" under her breath), Mori was … not talking, and Hunny was eating cake.

Wait, cross out that last one.

Cavities are painful torture, as the high school martial arts master was quickly discovering. Especially when his usually-best-friend Mori was prohibiting him from eating any sweets. Two days had gone by since the discovery of Hunny's cavity, but for the unfortunate soul, it seemed like two years. Two long, horrible, menacing tortured years.

_If I go on like this much younger, I'll surely die,_ Hunny brooded pessimistically from his emo corner (well, it was actually Tamaki's – Hunny was renting it for the day), taking a respite from dreaming of cake and plotting ways to get it.

_I wonder what my funeral will be like,_ he pondered.

Just then, the ornate, gleaming golden doors of Music Room Three banged open like great thunderclaps.

All eyes turned to the source of the noise, so everyone was watching as a strange girl strode into the room.

Saying the girl looked out of place doesn't do her justice. Clad in a jet-black hooded sweatshirt, faded blue jeans, and dark brown boots, she was obviously not a Japanese schoolgirl. Her tanned skin, nearly-elephant-sized nose, and large blue-gray eyes pegged her as a foreigner. Short, mousy-brown tresses hung in tangled curls over her shoulders. On her back rested a dark-colored string backpack with some writing on it in English. The strangest part of her, however, was her hat: a large, grayish, knit hat decorated to look like the head of an owl, complete with tiny pointed horns and strings hanging down from the hat with pom-poms on them. Why she was wearing a wool hat in April, nobody would ever know. She was the type of person that usually goes unnoticed – not pretty or strong enough to be popular, but not outwardly weird enough to be picked on.

For a minute or so, you could've heard a fly sneeze while everyone stared at the foreigner, who at one point muttered something to herself and giggled quietly. They wouldn't have been more surprised if Tamaki had announced he was homosexual and in a relationship with the ninety-year-old chemistry professor.

Finally, Kyoya gathered the brain cells to speak.

"Well," he remarked, "I see we have a new guest."

Tamaki was the second to recover from his shock. Approaching the foreigner, he commenced attempting to charm her with his princely mannerisms.

Apparently, the princely type isn't for everybody. After about a minute of Tamaki's charms, the foreigner snapped.

"Shut up!" screeched the girl, whacking the host prince on the noggin with a knobby old stick taped together with duct tape that she'd taken from her back pocket. "Annoyance," she shot at him.

The insult hit the teddy-bear-ish boy like a bullet, and he dropped into sulking mode, hiding in his emo corner and leaving Hunny to find a new one.

_Well, that's a relief,_ Haruhi thought. _I'm not the only one who finds him annoying._

Meanwhile, the foreign girl was speaking, her strange American accent difficultly forming the Japanese words.

"Hello. I'm here to see Haninozuka. I apologize for any trouble I may be causing you."

She seemed to recite the words as if she'd been practicing them for a speaking exam.

"What is your name?" Kyoya inquired, adjusting his strange, reflective glasses.

"I can't tell you my real name, but you may call me Owl," the girl – Owl – replied. A mystified murmur ran through the crowd like a buzz through a beehive – who was this Owl, and why had she come to see Hunny?

The boy in question momentarily abandoned his sulking to cautiously approach the foreigner. He was curious about Owl's American accent and clothing, and he admired how she'd stood up to Tamaki, not falling for his charms – but he wasn't ready to trust anyone after the "candy incident" (a.k.a. "the worst thing that ever happened to me in my entire life").

"Ah. Haninozuka," Owl said with relief at having found the person she'd been looking for.

"I'm here to tell you something," she continued. "I'll do my best to be nice about it, since you aren't a mean person or an idiot, you're just misinformed. I'm going to try to change your views. To make you more aware of the world."

"How?" asked the intrigued bunny-lover.

"First, let me ask you a simple question. What is starvation?"

"Starvation?" It didn't sound like anything Hunny had heard of before. "Is that a type of candy?"

Bringing her hand to her forehead in a strange, foreign gesture, Owl shook her head. "Not in the slightest. I guess I have no choice. I have to show you," she stated ominously. "I know you haven't been able to eat any sweets for two days, and I know how miserable it's causing you to be."

"What?"s and "How did she know?"s spread through the crowd like wildfire.

"For you, Haninozuka," the foreign girl said, "those two days were the worst in your entire life. Well, how would it feel not to eat any food at all – not for two days, but two weeks? How would it feel to never taste cake in your entire life? How would it feel to subsist for years on dry bread, corn hash, boiled meat, and water? How would it feel to slowly die of starvation? How would it feel to NEVER TASTE CAKE IN YOUR ENTIRE LIFE?" As the finished her little speech, her voice was loud enough that the Newspaper Club a few classrooms down could hear her and her long, skinny index finger was an inch away from Hunny's face.

The sensitive boy's eyes were tearing up at the mere thought. But Owl wasn't finished yet. Reaching into the knapsack, she drew out a stack of photographs on thin, 8 ½ by 11 computer paper which she held out for the Host Club and their guests to view. Even Tamaki crept out of his corner to look on in interest.

The photographs depicted scenes of starvation: hollow-cheeked, huge-eyed faces, tiny children, bodies absent of any fat or muscle, dry fields without a single crop, communities fighting for a scrap of bread, mile-long bread lines … the list went on and on. Each scene was more horrifying, more heart-churning than the last. Owl didn't have to explain the scenes; they spoke for themselves.

With each photograph, a new tear appeared in the eye of a Host Club member or guest until the room was flooded with the sounds of sobbing.

"I'll never eat cake again," Hunny choked out.

"That … that would be pretty stupid," Owl told him. "Just think about maybe donating some money to charity, or donating cake to a food shelter instead of eating it yourself."

"I will," Hunny promised.

"I'll help!" Tamaki exclaimed, tears streaming down his face. "Us too!" agreed the twins. "Yeah," Mori said simply. Kyoya muttered something about how much this new charity venture could cost them, and Haruhi simply rolled her eyes in amazement.

"Well, my work here is done," the foreigner said, grinning. She whipped around and strode out of the Host Club.

* * *

The Host Club went on to be renamed The Organization for Feeding the Unfortunate, or TOFU for short. Thanks to TOFU, over ten thousand hungry people all over the world never went hungry again. It was the most successful charity of the decade.

In a non-remarkable chair in a non-remarkable room in a non-remarkable house on a non-remarkable street in a non-remarkable town somewhere in the United States, Owl watched TOFU's tenth news interview that month and smiled to herself. Everything had gone as planned, and the world was a better place.

* * *

**The Host Club is re-named TOFU. TOFU. Yes, I did that on purpose.**

**By the way, it amused me when I was typing this up that when I wrote it out originally, I wrote Momigi (a character from Fruits Basket who turns into a bunny for complicated reasons) instead of Hunny about half the time I wrote Hunny's name. And I didn't even notice it until now. Just shows how similar the characters are. xD**

**Oh, and all you stalker types out there now know what I look like - the description is a fairly accurate description of me. At least, _I _ think it is.**

**Thanks for reading.**

**Reviews are loved. :)**


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